Right
by Kailey Hamilton
Summary: "Oh, come on. What is better than one pretty dress? Two pretty dresses." Morag and Romilda discuss what to wear to their own wedding. established!Morag/Romilda. Oneshot for Jess.


_Notes:_ _Written for the lovely_ _ **Jess (autumn midnights)**_ _for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza. Heh. Gotta love stories like this one, that flow in a single afternoon and just feel right. This was so, so much fun to write._ _ **Jess**_ _, last time I wrote about this OTP of yours it came out a bit tentative, as I felt unsure of what I was doing. It was a bit dark. So here *throws fluff your way*_

 _This story is set sometime in the mid-00s. I felt like I needed to point that out._

* * *

 **Right**

When Morag came back from work, she found her girlfriend in her pajamas, curled up in their red sofa with a magazine. Romilda was so engrossed in what she was looking at, that she was startled when Morag closed the door behind her. Morag took it all in - Romilda's dark messy hair, her long legs, her twinkling eyes, before letting out a small laugh.

Romilda was going through one of those times of extended leave, as the Ministry called it. That meant Morag didn't see her at work, but she was certain to find her home. It added much-needed stability to their otherwise chaotic lives. Such was life at the Research Unit of the Auror Office. Romilda could leave home for months at a time, or be left alone for weeks. She could lead a nine-to-five regular schedule, she could work sixteen-hour shifts, she could have no work at all - and still be on payroll.

As supportive as Morag tried to be, she couldn't help the feelings of happiness and peace that invaded her when Romilda was already at home, waiting for her.

"What are you reading?" Morag's curiosity took her greeting out of her lips.

Romilda just signaled her to come closer, so she complied. She left her purse on the coffee table and sat down next to Romilda and placing her arm on the headrest. Romilda's head fell on Morag's shoulder; her curly hair tickled Morag's neck. Morag's lopsided smile showed as soon as she got a glance at the magazine. All she could see were skinny models in white gowns.

"I've been looking for ideas, for when we get married."

Against all rational thought, Morag felt warmth spread through her body. Romilda said _when_ , not _if_. Marriage was too abstract of a concept. They'd talked about it multiple times, but it was like building castles in the air. All Morag knew was that life with Romilda had been the adventure she'd always been yearning for. Morag had always thought of herself as flighty... and there she was, fearing that forever wouldn't be enough.

"I have to admit I've never thought about what to wear." That was her way of summing up her thoughts. "I would want nothing like these dresses, though."

"Oh, come on. What is better than one pretty dress? Two pretty dresses."

"I don't want a fancy dress."

"Right. One of your old-fashioned dress robes, then."

"They're not old-fashioned. They're traditional."

" _Right_." A little smile gave away Romilda's amusement. She pointed at a particular dress, with a tight lace bodice and a fluffy skirt. "What about this one for me?"

Morag couldn't contain a grimace. Sure, Romilda had an extravagant sense of fashion... she didn't want to be too critical, she always tried not to be. But her girlfriend deserved to know what she really thought.

"Too provocative." She raised an eyebrow. "Have you met my parents? You can't wear _that_ to our wedding."

"Excuse me, I can wear whatever I want."

"Then I'll wear my little white dress."

"It's a special occasion. Why would you want to wear the same dress you wore all summer?"

"Why would I want to waste thousands of galleons on robes I'll only wear once?"

"How romantic," Romilda rolled her eyes. "You can still do something more... symbolic, even if you still insist on being cheap." Morag was going to reply, but Romilda wouldn't let her. "Doesn't your family have some sort of tradition of wedding dress inheritance? That sounds like them."

"I guess I could... I don't really care, but have you seen the robes my mum wore? Now _that_ is old-fashioned. I'll show you."

She stretched to retrieve her wand from her purse, prompting Romilda to sit upright. Morag non-verbally summoned a picture album, which flew from a shelf in the opposite wall right into her girlfriend's hands. Morag had borrowed it from her grandmother a few months prior, before she passed away. She'd only wanted to show Romilda her baby pictures, at her insistence. But since she never got a chance to return it, she figured that she might as well keep it. It was the best keepsake she could've asked for.

Romilda held the album as she flipped through the pages. There was one particular picture she was looking for - her mother and father, serenely waving at the camera with a smile on their wedding day. With a big smirk, Morag let Romilda examine the picture.

"Morag, this is ugly." She closed the album in one swift motion and cast it aside. "No offense."

"I might up ending wearing that, if Mum offers. Will solve all my problems."

"You cannot wear that."

 _Oh you little hypocrite,_ Morag thought, suppressing a smile. She had the upper hand now.

"I can, and I probably will. Look at the bright side... you'll rip it right off of me, as soon as possible."

"That I will. I will tear it to pieces, so you can't force our future daughter to wear that. Ever."

"Now we have a daughter?"

"Two. And a son. Problem?"

"Which one of our daughters will wear that dress you picked, then?" Morag wasn't going to give up. "Would you actually let any of our daughters wear it? Because... well, when you wear it, it can stay on. There's little left to the imagination anyway."

"It would look great on me. You know that."

That defeated tone signaled that Morag was done having fun. Romilda was just too easy to make fun of.

"It definitely would look great on you," Morag said. "But everything looks great on you. That's a moot point."

"Nice try." Romilda's cheeks were hot pink.

"Fine. You wear your low-cut, super-tight dress and I'll wear my mum's outdated robes. That's... fitting."

"Morag, I will not be wearing anything like it." Romilda giggled. "Come on. Do you think I'd really tell you what I'm wearing to our wedding? You just wait. It will be a surprise."

"Alright." Morag couldn't pretend she wasn't relieved - now _that_ sounded more like Romilda. "But, I want to go and try out some dresses with you. Just for fun. We can't both try on dresses and not buy anything. If it's okay with the Muggles, I mean."

"Worst case scenario, we get kicked out. But yes! I love that. I'm already excited thinking of how pretty you'll look in white."

"That was exactly my idea. I think... I think once we decide to do it, I'll want to see you in white as many times as I can. Just to convince myself it's happening."

Romilda hummed softly and kissed her on the cheek

"So wait. Will it be a dress for you, then?"

"It's a secret." The real answer was that she still had no idea. "We shouldn't be talking about this, I think."

"We _will_ have our weddings, though. Right?"

They'd talked about it before, even if to Morag it had no shape. A marriage authorized solely by the Ministry would be bittersweet to Romilda, with her strong ties to the Muggle world. A civil union wouldn't suffice either. They would've wanted their marriage to count for both worlds. On the other hand... what was better than one pretty wedding? Two pretty weddings. And they would get there - they both knew it.

But even then, Romilda's doe eyes and her sweet little plea, made Morag's skin felt like it was on fire. Her heart was incited to life by infinite tenderness. Before she knew it, Morag was kissing her girlfriend on the lips. Romilda sighed, giving in gleefully but quickly breaking the kiss with a smile.

"Right," Morag whispered. And for the first time, she felt like she couldn't wait.


End file.
